Hair katto

One of the moments I've been dreading arrived.  The inevitable haircut.  Prior to leaving, I was informed by all members of my family that I could not return to my undergrad, heavy metal days, when I looked a lot like a young Kevin Cronin.  Mostly because I would now look like an old Kevin Cronin trying to look like a young one.  So I knew at some point I would need to stumble my way through an interaction with a Japanese barber.

Part of my problem was the paradox of choice, as there appear to be two hair salons for every restaurant in Nagoya.  I honestly don't see how there is enough hair in the country to justify the number of salons.  One of the salons is on the way to our subway stop, and so every morning I would peer inside as I walked by in the hopes that one of the stylists might be free and, seeing my disheveled appearance, invite me inside for a quick cut.  After thinking about it a bit, I realized the stylists were probably bit freaked out to see a hairy American staring at them longingly every day, so I only stared every other day.

The other part of the problem is that most of these places require a reservation.  We do not have a Japanese phone number, so that meant going in and trying to schedule a reservation in person or getting an online reservation.  As perfect as the latter seemed, the online reservation system was a national online system.  Good luck finding the barber shop down the street.

After a few weeks of staring into barber shops and enduring Kevin Cronin jokes over dinner, I discovered a nearby 'walk-in and wait' barber shop with a wholesome name.  'Familys.'  The building had several pictures of gaijin plastered on the windows, all of them looking extremely happy with their selection of hair style.  I was sold.

Before taking the plunge, I did a bit of online research on 'how to get a haircut in Japan.'  The advice was great.  Find a picture of the haircut you want and display this prominently while saying 'shi o kono e no you ni mi se te kudasai' (make me look like this picture).  So, I found a good picture online and, the next Wednesday, I went in.  I was immediately ushered into a chair, and my barber rattled off a few Japanese phrases while holding a razor.  I panicked.  I forgot my phrase.  I resorted to the much easier 'hair katto' and brought up a picture of Chris Hemsworth while pointing to my head.  I can only describe the barber's expression as deeply skeptical.  To clarify my request, I pointed to my head again and said "Hai.  Thor.  Hair katto."  So, he shrugged and did his best to make me look like Thor.

The Japanese haircut is well beyond what you can get in Lewiston.  First, it is not just a haircut.  It's an experience.  After the haircut, the barber said 'shave?' and I thought, why not?!  So he lathered up my throat, chin, cheeks, neck and forehead.  He then helpfully clarified whether I would like my eyelids shorn (I declined).  After all facial hair had been eradicated, he inquired whether I would like a shampoo and a massage.  Why yes, I thought.  Yes I would.  So, after five minutes of scalp scrubbing, gel applying, and shoulder pummeling, I left the salon looking a lot more like Chris than Kevin.  And what more, really, could I ask.

Did someone say Thor reboot?